(Kahlil Gibran)
Lost Lake, Oregon
my countenance brittle withered and drawn
know that my soul seeks the song of the waters
my aching heart needs be soothed in their arms
so deliver me to snow-melt high-mountain waters
sweep me away in their crystal’d blue streams
tumble me joyous in their rolling white rapids
sail me over a waterfall grand as my dreams
now I’ve grown weary — my leave I will take
to rest in the peace of a deep mountain lake
Willamette Falls, Oregon
rob kistner © 2020
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